


Weak

by notapepper



Series: Near Miss (Canon Based) [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Extended Scene, F/M, Fitz Throws Himself a Pity Party, Gen, Mind Control, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 14:49:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1714487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notapepper/pseuds/notapepper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during 1x15 (Yes Men).  Fitz's POV before and after Lorelei's spell. I do ship FitzSimmons but we'll see how shippy this story gets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Grant "I'm Everyone's Type" Ward had been compromised.

Fitz hunched over the circular sander, smoothing out the final grooves in the Asgardian neckpiece. The whine of the machine, muffled through the foam in his ear, danced with the vibration under his gloves and the one thought pinging around his skull: _Serves him right._

Going in like he did, no earplugs, no skin protection, no defense whatsoever against the powers Lady Sif had mentioned. Who did he think he was, Superman? Hmph. DC. Pffffft. Ward was probably trying to show off after the way May and Lady Sif had smirked over the "inherent weakness" of men. Such malarkey. Regardless, someone should have known it was a bad idea to send a troop of men in against Lorelei with no backup besides hope and luck.

If they'd only asked Fitz for his recommendation, he could've told them how to go about it. But all these warrior types ever wanted from him was firepower and the impossible. _Lose the ounce, Fitz. Triple the stopping power, Fitz. Fix this magical alien collar, Fitz._

_It's on you. Get it done. Don't ever tell me there's no way._

Coulson was probably to blame for this fiasco, if he was being honest. Their boss hadn't exactly been at his best lately. Ever since Skye was shot, Coulson had been cagey - even more secretive than a Level 8 operative normally had an excuse for. He'd forbidden Jemma from sending blood samples to the Hub, despite their growing desperation. Tangled up in bureaucracy, Simmons was becoming irritable and dismissive. _And who d' you think pays for that? That's right. Good ol' punching bag best-friend Fitz._

His mouth squirmed into a childish frown as he tasted the unfairness of it all. Why, just that morning Simmons had scolded him for not getting enough GH-325 from the secret base. As if there were entire coolers of it lying around like Natty Light at a frat party. ' _Well excuse me for not stickin' around long enough to get blown to pieces,'_ he'd explained reasonably, and with hardly any snark. But instead of apologizing, she'd huffed at him. Huffed!

It was no wonder, when she barely paid attention to him anymore. Not now that she'd gotten used to macho types hanging around, like Ward and Mike Peterson and that Agent Triplett who'd been so keen on her last week. Thank God Garrett had taken _him_ back straightaway. The nerve, trying to chat Simmons up while her friend lay dying in front of them. It was only Jemma's sweet nature that had kept her from seeing what an opportunistic cad Trip was. Well, Fitz would just have to be skeptical enough for two.

He blew the last shavings off the collar. The acrid smell of solder and friction lingered in his nose as he mounted the stairs to Lady Sif's room. He'd fixed it. The challenge should have been a bear, given the countless variables presented by the density and molecular makeup of the otherworldly metal, but Fitz was just that good. _Solid, dependable, work-horse Fitz._

Oh, he wasn't so oblivious as to think no one cared about his inventions. Ward had clapped him on the back when he'd bragged over the new ICERs, and May had taken a pistol - the highest compliment she could give. But the rest? Coulson set the bar so high that even Fitz's best didn't seem impressive anymore, Skye was busy recovering in the med pod, and Simmons...

Simmons spent her waking hours tending Skye and searching out the mysteries of the miracle drug. She was too distracted, too exhausted to see that Fitz needed his trusty sidekick. He hadn't quite vanquished his own guilt over Skye's shooting, and visiting her sickbed called it up, so most days he hid in the lab and waited. But with every missed meal and forgotten mug of tea, he felt Jemma slipping away like seaweed dragged under the tide.

They still kept their psychic link on occasion, though.  He thought back to a moment that afternoon, when Coulson was explaining what had befallen Ward. ' _The men Lorelei controls don't forget who they are, or what they know, she just… becomes the embodiment of all their desires.'_

His eyes had met hers half a second later. Fitz could guess what they were both thinking: how silly it was for one person to embody another's every wish. The very concept was absurd. At any given time, Fitz probably wanted a sandwich, a spaceship, a monkey and a nap. To imagine one person in lieu of all those things was simply ridiculous. Yet somehow, it sounded… nice. And looking into Jemma's whiskey eyes, it almost made sense as well.

Fitz set the collar on the smooth blanket of the makeshift cot, watching it settle, surprised again by its heft. Lady Sif would be pleased. He'd never had a god owe him a favor before… maybe he could get Thor to record his outgoing message. That could be fun. " _I am the god of thunder, defender of the nine realms. I may reside in Asgard, but worry not. I will return… your message. Beeeep."_

He was so lost in his own mind, idly concerned with the shuck-shuck-shuck of his trainers on the steps down, that he barely registered the slim, pale hand on his shoulder. For a fraction of a heartbeat, he knew her. _Simmons?_ But the redhead that invaded his nostrils and filled up the whites of his eyes wasn't Jemma at all.

"Greetings, flimsy male."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I remember watching this episode and there were quite a few things that could have used some explanation. I just really think Fitz would be horrified by somebody violating his mind. Also, Fitzsimmons should have been pretty darn curious about the science, which we didn't see much in this show, beyond a couple of lame mentions of "science we don't completely understand" because, let's face it, it's probably magic.
> 
> Then as I started writing, Fitz's pity party (that was very nearly the title, y'all) popped out. In fairness, he has good reasons to be upset. Also, I hardly ever write Fitz's POV, so please let me know what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Fitz woke to the stinging prick of a needle in his elbow.  His eyes butterflied open in time to see Simmons remove a vial of blood from a tube in his arm, placing it on a rack with five others.  He groaned against the dubstep throb in his head.

“What the flaming Hell!”

“Oh, good, you’re up!”  Her cheery smile dimmed momentarily.  “Sorry to draw so much, but I’ll need to run multiple tests to determine exactly how you were affected.  Isn’t it exciting, Fitz?  I can’t wait to unearth the science behind her abilities.  I would hypothesize a hormonal surge similar to the feline oestrous cycle.”

_No way is she bringing another damn cat in the lab._

“Surely _you’re_ curious how she managed to snare you.”  The sunbeam of enthusiasm was back, but Fitz was having none of it.  

“Simmons,” he griped.  “Whose cracking plan was it to have Coulson punch me out, eh?  We’re in a med pod, for Christ’s sake.  There’s not a tranquilizer injection around here?”  He twisted to glare daggers at Skye.  “I know you’ve seen _Dexter_.”

“Whoa, back off there, grumpus.  We had to do _something_ after you went all pound-puppy for Lorelei’s lady business.”

“Her--  wha--?  I most certainly _\--_ ”

“Skye, it’s not his fault.  Fitz can’t be blamed for falling under her enchantment.  It’s a miracle we didn’t lose Coulson to the same weakness.”

Simmons’ apologetic tone did little to mollify Fitz when he felt the sharp bite of a cable tie trapping his hand to a railing.  His eyebrows climbed into his hair.  “You’ve got to be kidding!”

“Oh, settle down, Fitz, I’m coming.”   _Snick._  Simmons replaced the shears in the drawer as Fitz rubbed away the line of ants inside his wrist.  She shined a penlight across his vision, tracking, then palpated his scalp and the bruise around his eye with whisper-soft fingers.  This close, she smelled like a strange blend of hospital gloves and happiness.   _What the Dickens does that matter?_  Fitz kept hold of his foul mood like a hang glider.

“You lot might’ve given me another concussion!  You do realize I prefer my brain to stay at top capacity.  I should think _you’d_ be more invested in my genius.”

Jemma clucked sympathetically, the fluttering in his belly growing louder as she fussed over him.  Fitz retreated out of range.  He still had a bone to pick with her.

“I mean it, Simmons.  All of this?  The blunt force trauma, the restraints?  I thought you said I was weak.”  He used his phone camera to check out his new shiner.   _Makes me look quite hard, actually.  I don’t hate it._

Simmons glanced up, surprised.  “I’m not saying _you_ were weak, I’m saying _all_ men are weak.”

Skye’s told-you-so head tilt sided with Jemma. _You wipe that smug face right off, missy._  Arrgh.  If only Fitz’s mum hadn’t raised him to be so polite.

  
The girls straightened as their stares targeted someone behind him.  Fitz heard the rustle of Coulson’s government-issue suit.  He turned.

“Sir.” He saw the apology on Coulson’s brow and his anger melted like a sugar cube in tea.  His voice dropped.  “I understand why you had to punch me.  I forgive you.”

_Now isn’t there something you’d like to say to me?  Perhaps, ‘Fitz, sorry for decking you when I could have easily overpowered you with my hand-to-hand skills.  Oh and by the way, your unappreciated brilliance is the glue that holds this team together.’  Maybe that?_

“Could I get a moment alone with Skye, please?”

_Seriously?  Come on!  I should stick up for myself.  Wait, no.  He’s my boss.  OK, he’s a busy man.  That’s fine._

 

Fitz left, his footsteps driving by habit back to the lab.  Simmons was on his heels, her Converse squeaking a peppy rhythm.  “Fitz?  How are you, really?” Her quiet concern broke him apart like a watermelon.

“How d’ you think, Jemma?  She just… grabbed me, and that was it.  I didn’t stand a chance.”

Simmons tutted.  “Aww, Fitz, don’t.  None of this was down to you…”

“But this is my _mind_ , Simmons.  It’s my bread and butter.  Goin’ up against Lorelei --  I thought at least it would be a test of some kind, a battle of wills.  I thought, of course _Ward_ yielded to her, he’s not an intellectual prodigy.”

Fitz’s vision burned and his shoulders drooped under the shame.  He licked away a tear, slick and cold, and the words fell out of him like Scrabble tiles.  “But as soon as she touched me all I noticed was how creamy her skin was, how her hair curled just so, what her accent sounded like.  She just seemed so intelligent, and passionate, and I wanted nothing more than to make my home in her shadow.  And I would’ve done it.  I would’ve done anything.”

Simmons was crystal-eyed, weight shifting as her hands hovered midway to his chest, suspended like jellyfish.

“She could have made me hurt you, Jemma!  I tried to push you out of my mind, to keep you safe, but I just--  dammit!”  Fitz was suddenly furious.  “How can you be so-- so bloody-- _calm_ about everything?”

Jemma blinked twice, thrice, and pulled in a breath with her hands.  Her normally chipper smile was crouched in the dark somewhere.  “I’m not calm.  I’m scared.  I’ve been scared since Skye was shot.  I’ve probably been scared since our first day on the team.  But one thing I’ve _never_ worried about is whether or not you would hurt me.  That didn’t change today.”

Fitz’s tongue was stumbling around his mouth like a 10-month-old.  He supposed this brand of honesty was a bit uncomfortable for both of them.  Fortunately, Simmons regained her composure first.  She’d always been better at things like that.  Gosh, she was the best.  Fitz couldn’t even remember why he’d been miffed at her.  He dug himself out from weeping and scrubbed the last tears away with his sleeve.  
 

“And clearly you _were_ able to resist her.”   _What is she on about?_  “You didn’t hurt us, even though she-- what was it Lorelei told you to do, anyway?”

“Ah, well, that _was_ a stroke of serendipity.”  Fitz’s palms landed backwards on his hips as he launched into the story.  “She asked Ward about the others, and he said,” Fitz slid into an American cadence, “‘There are two more downstairs -- we should take care of them.’  And then Lorelei looked at me and said, ‘Do it, new person.’”  Fitz bobbled delightedly.  “Is that not the luckiest thing?  I reckon we all owe Ward a thank you.”

“So… she told you to take care of us?”

“She did indeed.  For a villainess, she’s not very specific in choosin’ her words.”

Jemma was all bright teeth and perfect lips, a million-watt smile glowing specially for him.  Fitz sent back a quick grin.  “I mean, taking _care_ of each other?  That’s just--

“--what we do.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh. This was a little tough to write because of the switch from snarky Fitz to crying angsty Fitz. But I think he struggled with his dragons and came out on top; you tell me.
> 
> Anyway, I hope I addressed some of the missing content from this episode. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Reviews are like doughnuts. There should be at least 12 of them or someone isn't doing their job?


End file.
